


Healthy

by Lightspeed



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, F/M, Infidelity, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-10
Updated: 2013-02-10
Packaged: 2017-12-13 12:27:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/824312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lightspeed/pseuds/Lightspeed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tavish DeGroot is in a bad way, his heart broken by Jane, he's turned to his own team's Soldier for comfort, only to find himself unable to let go of the past when he's beneath his lost love's doppleganger.  Soldier's had enough, is tired, and does what's healthy for the both of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Healthy

Demoman's eye rolled back in his head, ecstasy enveloping him as Soldier's body did the same. He was laying on his back in the rumpled mess of sheets that had fallen to the floor along with the two of them, having rolled off the bed in a fit somewhere between rough-housing and foreplay. Clothes were strewn everywhere, and Soldier was perched atop him, straddling the taller man's hips as he slowly lowered himself down onto the Scotsman's cock, gritting his teeth and panting through them as the firm shaft filled him, the chill of lubricant chased away by the sheer heat pouring off his partner's flesh. Demoman's hands slid up the American's thighs, feeling his muscles tense with movement and pleasure. His fingers traced lines flexing beneath pale, soft flesh, wrapping their way around to Soldier's hips, which began to roll languidly, sliding Demoman's shaft in and out, making him shiver.

Soldier's calloused hands slid over the Scot's body, sliding roughly over his belly, over ridges of muscle and smooth, warm skin. He hunched forward as he quickened the pace, bouncing in Demoman's lap. Soldier was a man of imperatives, impatience, and immediacy, and with grunting breaths, he reached one hand down to stroke himself as he rode his partner hard. His other hand was balled up into a fist, planted on the floor next to Demoman's head, bracing him and supporting him.

The slapping of skin on skin, the shuffling of sheets and pillows, the desperate groaning of two men locked in furious coitus rebounded off of the walls. The sound soared up to the ceiling in a crescendo before diving down and burying itself in the rough, short carpet amongst the dirt and now, the sweat of the straining, pushing, gyrating men fucking upon it.

Soldier crumpled forward, his eyes squeezed shut, his jaw set hard enough to ache. With a wordless tumble of noise, he came, mostly in his own hand. His body tensed, clenching around the cock inside him, his legs shaking. Warm drops fell to Demoman's belly as he milked his orgasm, rolling his hips with decreasing coordination.

The rush of pressure and heat was too much for the Scotsman, and gripping those muscular hips so tightly, he came deep inside of Soldier. His jaw dropped open, his eye fluttered closed, and his body locked tight and poured forth into his partner. Demoman's voice was nearly a yowl as he groaned out his release.

Pants, breaths, gasping, puffing air sucked all of the sound from the room as both men lay in a haze atop each other. Muscles were jelly, bodies like rubber. “Ah, Janey--” Demoman's mouth snapped shut as his eye slammed open, tension returning to him. He cursed in his mind, knowing he couldn't un-say the name.

Soldier wrenched himself from his teammate's arms, and sat up on his knees. He heaved out a heavy breath and moved to sit on the bed, reaching for his jacket.

Demoman sat up. “Ah, tits. I'm sorry, I dinnae mean to--”

“Save it. You never mean to. But that doesn't stop you from calling me by his name every time we fuck, Tavish.” The American pulled a pack of cigarettes and a book of matches from one of the jacket's pockets. His jaw was set hard, and he refused to look at his partner.

“I-I'm sorry, lad.”

“Yeah, I know.” Soldier tapped out a cig, popping it between his lips before lighting it. He shook out the match flame and dropped the thing unceremoniously atop the nightstand. “This needs to stop.” He took a slow drag, the red ember of the cigarette lighting his features with a ruby glow.

“I ken, I ken. I won't do it again. I promise.”

“That's not what I mean.” The American exhaled through his nose, sending twin trails of smoke snaking into the air, to join together as one amorphous haze. “This,” he gestured with the cigarette, tracing a circle in the air, “needs to stop. We need to stop doing this. This whole friends-with-benefits thing ain't healthy.”

“A couple 'o' men can be friends and still have fun now and then without it being a problem, lad.”

“Not like this. Not when you're fucking a man because you're in love with his doppelganger. You've got me in here because you can't have what you want, and I'm the next closest thing.” He took another drag. “We're using each other.”

“So that it, then?” Demoman pulled himself up onto the bed, beside his teammate. He leaned forward, elbows on his thighs, head in his hands. “I lose again, do I?”

Silence fell; a sopping wet blanket smothering everything it touched. Soldier took another, long drag, the light from his cigarette the only illumination in the darkened room. The shades were drawn, the door locked. Complete isolation greeted them, save for the soft chirping of frogs and crickets in the night outside.

“You know what he got?”

Demoman looked up with confusion. “Eh, what?”

“He got boots. Gunboats. I bought 'em for a hundred fifty bucks from the Mann Co catalog He destroyed a relationship for 'em. I'd say you got the better deal.”

Silence greeted Soldier, his teammate unsure of what to say.

“Listen, Tav. You two aren't the first guys who've caroused across teams. Just the least subtle. Goin' out in team colours together, gettin' pictures taken.” He took another drag. “You two need to patch things up. Get over yourselves. And I know how you can get a hold of him.”

“What do you mean?”

“Spy used to screw around with the other team's scout. He told me a few secret ways to get back and forth and keep things discreet.”

“Wait, Spy? Wasn't he dating that scout's mum for a while?”

“Yep. Turns out he didn't know whose mother she was. Once they figured it out, they quit each other pretty quickly. Then Scout threatened to drag him out of respawn range and kill him if he didn't break up with him mom, what with him cheating on her and all.”

“Wow, that's pretty awful. Always thought Spy was head over heels for the lass.”

“He says it was one of those 'fire that burns brightly but briefly' kinds of things. I dunno. Anyway, you need man up and make it right.” Soldier fished around in his jacket, and withdrew a playing card. A blue ace of hearts. He offered it to Demoman. “Put this in your hat, go down to where the storm drains empty outside the fences. He'll be looking for you.”

Demoman took the offered card. “Wait, how did you? He'll be waiting tonight?”

“No, maggot, let me finish! Tomorrow night.”

“How did you set this up?”

“Their team is just as sick of his moping around as our team is of yours. I met their Engineer at one of the bars in town last week, by chance. We got talking, and decided we needed to play matchmaker. So, this is your match. Consider it made. Don't waste it.” Soldier stood, and gathered his clothes. He slid into his boxers and pants with great effort, his body still sluggish and sweaty.

“I don't ken what to say, what do you get out of this?”

Soldier sighed, his shoulders going slack as he returned to the bed. “I get a clear conscience. 'Cause I'm done using you, too. Here.” He handed the Scotsman his jacket. “Give him this. Tell him to keep it hidden unless he's gonna use it. It'll help you to rendezvous a little easier. If they find it in his possessions, I'm pretty sure that's grounds for termination, though.” He turned, and headed for the door, undoing the locks.

“Thank ye, lad. You don't ken what this means.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I do.” The American slipped out the door, closing it behind him.

***  
  


The hallway was drafty, prompting Soldier to pull his undershirt on before turning to make the trek back to his room.

“You did it, then?” a whisper came from the right. Spy uncloaked, leaning against the wall, an unlit cigarette between his fingers.

Soldier stubbed his own cig out on the wooden wall, and let it drop to the floor. “Yeah. He has the card, he's got my extra jacket, and he's going back to him. Finally.”

Spy's eyebrow raised, and his head dipped low, a sign of earnest concern. “And you are okay with this?”

A deep inhale, and the American's shoulders raised. His chest puffed out, and he regained the countenance and stature he was known for. A smile crept across his face. “Yeah, I think I am. He's finally gonna be happy again. Lord knows he ain't had much of that in his life. And if he has to be with that BLU soldier to do it, then that's how it has to be. I'll be fine. Head on over; set it up.” He motioned for Spy to go as he turned on his heel to tromp, barefoot, down the hall, his boots and helmet tucked in the crook of his arm. His footsteps were dull slaps on the scuffed hardwood floor.

Spy followed, taking a few strides to catch up to his friend. “Really.” It sounded more of a statement than a question, but Soldier knew the inflection well.

“Really,” he assured. “Frees up more time for me to do my job as park ranger. Sour cream reserves've been getting low! The raccoons've been grumpy lately.”

“I suppose they would.”


End file.
